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He stood in line shuffling in his pennyloafers. Wearing his cheapest business casual attire and keeping his face low, inconspicuous, averting any attention that might come his way. Loosened collar and untucked shirttails. He looked tired. Next!, she shouted. He took a step forward. Hello, he said quietly. What's the name? Uh, Bruce. Wayne. Her head turned upward, glasses on her nose. Bruce Wayne? The Bruce Wayne? He sighed. I'm afraid so. A skeptical eye narrowed. ...Nah, can't be. You just look like him. I wish that were true. His smile betrayed his embarrassment, his attrition. What is this some kinda joke? He was almost hurt. Crestfallen like a little boy. No. It isn't. Is this the kind of stuff you rich pricks do for fun? No ma'am. Coming down here to make fun of people in need. That's right, isn't it? His face hardened towards her and his voice took on a deep baritone. Absolutely not. She paused, swallowed in her mouth. Wh...

(Part Three of Bird Trilogy) The balcony overlooked a swimming pool and the twinkling jewelry of the city lights distant and obscured through the evergreen pine. A remote no-name hotel circumspect at the outskirts of the highway, home to any itinerant traveler or downtrodden resident it lured in from the road like a lighthouse beckoning from the dark. It was the third night, though their number had seemed to blend all into one single twilight of equal parts lethargy and stupor. When it was day they rested, smoked, and ate petty meals like scavenger mammals. Sunglasses worn inside. Holed up with anemic frailty from the mania of the night before. As the sun set they would brandish themselves with every glamour and elegance and cut a vampiric swath through the city that left in its wake a toll they would never repay nor even consider. It was a cycle they'd fallen into, an inevitable tempest arising from the alchemy of their interaction. Two elements swilled from strangers to acquain...